Fate: Apocrypha Alternate Redux
by JesterClown
Summary: An immortal Wizard worn out by time. A selfless hero with a void in his heart. Two individuals who never should have met, but did. Both are working together to reach the Holy Grail to grant them their wish. Their relationship, however, made one remember what it's like to desire the future, and the other to finally understanding that it's alright to be selfish.
1. The Night of Fate

**WARNING: Story contains spoiler for the Fate/Apocrypha light novel series.**

**It is also NOT beta-ed. **

**Please read at your own risk, and enjoy.**

* * *

**- London, England: 12 Grimmauld Place - **

"It's ready. All that's left now is you."

"... Is there really no other way?"

"There's no cure here, Harry," Hermione said looking very tired. "I've looked – we both did. We've researched everything we could get our hands on since you became the Master of Death, and there's nothing."

"You can't stay here, mate," Ron sighed, looking at his friend sadly. "Not only because there's no cure, but also the fact that the Unspeakables are after you. And they can find almost anybody."

Harry said nothing as he took off his glasses and tiredly rubbed his face with his hand. Across from him are his two best friends, both married and looking well within their age, exchanging nervous looks. He, on the other hand, Harry thought bitterly, looked no older than the day when he finally defeated Voldemort once and for all. And that was two decades ago.

Everything should have been back to normal. The war ended, the Ministry of Magic was rebuilt, the Death Eaters were tried and convicted, and Magical Britain finally had the chance to move on with life, doing better than ever. Everything should have been okay.

But that all changed when Harry looked into the mirror one day on his thirtieth year. Although he was already nearing thirty, he realized that he still looked to be in his late teens; maybe early twenties at most. It was almost as if he wasn't aging at all.

And he wasn't.

At first, Harry didn't think too much about it. He assumed that he probably was one of those lucky folks who had the genes to make them look younger than their actual age.

But after a few more years since that realization, he began to panic when there were still has no signs of him physically aging. He still looking just as fit and youthful, while everyone else around him grew older.

Even worse, the Unspeakables had become suspicious of Harry's lack of growth and is planning to "interrogate" him. "Interrogate," as in kidnapping him, turn him into a human lab rat, and see what makes him tick.

He wouldn't have even known about this if it wasn't for Hermione - who happened to work for the Ministry of Magic. She overheard whispers about it when she had to go down to the Department of Mysteries, and was fortunate enough that they haven't noticed her. It was only a matter of time when the Unspeakables will be able to finalize their plans and go right after him.

Which now led to Harry's current situation at this moment.

"It's the only way, Harry," Ron urged anxiously. "You have to run away while you still have the chance."

"But to a different _dimension?_"

"It wouldn't be so bad," Hermione offered, hurrying when he gave her an unimpressed look. "Just think about all the places you can visit! Just imagine; seeing and experiencing all kinds of incredible things in other dimensions, times, maybe even worlds."

"Hermione, have you completely lost your mind?" Harry demanded. "You're telling me to run away to a different dimension, and there's no telling if I will even be able to come back."

At this, the Golden Trio looked very somber. What he said is true. Although it's guaranteed that he will be able to safely travel to different dimensions, the same couldn't be said for him coming back.

In fact, this might be the last time Harry will ever see his friends again. Not here, not in this time and world.

But as much as Harry wanted to deny it – and he really did – deep down, he, too, knew that as long as he remained in _this _world, the Unspeakables could, and will find him. It wouldn't matter where he hid or what protection he may use.

It was only just a matter of time.

After a moment of silence, Harry let out a defeated sighed. "... But this is it, isn't it."

Perhaps they saw some of the fear that appeared on his face because Hermione suddenly hugged him tightly, and Ron gripped his shoulder. They, too, didn't really want him to leave. The three may have felt awkward around each due to their visible age difference, and the war have made Harry more reclusive than ever.

However, they were still friends who have always been by his side since he turned eleven and entered Hogwarts. And now he would have to leave that, leaving Harry completely and utterly _alone_.

Harry gave a fierce hug in return, his chest and throat tightening, his eyes began to burn. He pushed Hermione away and nodded at Ron as he let go. The brunette, who was trying to hold back her tears, began to cry.

"Be careful, Harry! Always remember that we love you."

"We'll miss you, mate," Ron said, pulling Harry into a hug as well. Harry returned it just as fiercely before reluctantly pulling away. Letting go have never felt so painful. "Doesn't matter where or what time, we will always be by your side."

Harry looked at them on last time, imprinting their faces into his memories.

After saying his goodbyes, he saw his world dissolve around him with darkness, and then he was gone.

* * *

That was centuries ago. Centuries since he last saw his friends and began to travel throughout different worlds, time, and dimensions. Yet, he still could not find a cure to his immortality.

Harry spent a lot of time hating himself at first. Hating himself for getting involved in that thrice damned war that unintentionally made him the Master of Death. A part of him that even hated Hermione and Ron for suggesting this whole insanity.

In the end, however, that there is no one to blame but at himself. It was his choice for fighting that war against Voldemort. His choice in gathering the Deathly Hallows, however unknowingly.

It was his own choice that he's now traveling different worlds, wandering aimlessly.

He looked into his immortality in one world after the next, trying to find anything and everything about the Hallows and Death, but nothing significant came up.

Harry haven't tried to commit suicide, as he somehow instinctively knew that it would not work. Besides, not only be an insult to himself, but to his family and all those who sacrificed their lives for him so that he would live.

But he felt so tired. He just wanted to rest and finally move on.

Harry have also learned one important lesson over the years: Never get invested into a world he would eventually have to leave by getting involved with the people around him. The pain from all of them eventually leaving him due to old age was just not worth it. So he did his absolute best ignoring the people who tried to befriend him in each world.

And so he continues to wander; doomed to live forever, leading a lonely existence. Until after five thousand years since his journey began, Harry found himself in a world where tales of Masters, of knights and heroes, still exist in a modern time so very much like his own.

A world where he met a certain troll of the Nasuverse.

* * *

**- Unknown location, England - **

"… You want me to participate in a war."

"That's right."

"A _magical war_ that takes place in a bloody city of all thing, full of many, many _Muggle civilians_."

"Yep."

"A war that existed for the past few hundred years since its creation, and had absolutely no victor even until this day."

"Uh-huh."

"Yet you still want me to participate in the Heaven's Feel."

"Exactly."

Harry sighed, closing his eyes as he pinched the bridge of his nose – he had gotten rid of his glasses and fixed his eyesight many years ago. "You do realize that I came from a world where I fought a war, right? A magical war? And you want me to fight in _another _one?"

Zelretch winced. "Ah, I actually forgot about that."

Harry's left eye began to twitch in annoyance. "Then let's also not forget the fact that it was because of a _war_," he stressed, "that I'm stuck in this situation in the first place: Aimlessly wandering throughout different dimensions, and is bloody immortal."

"… But it might be entertaining?"

"You're the type who would even troll a baby by stealing their candy if you found it amusing enough, you old Vampire."

Zelretch raised his hands with a grin. "Touché."

Harry crossed his arms. "Give me one good reason why I should fight in the Heaven's Feel," he demanded.

"Well…" Zelretch sighed, "Just for the sake of this argument I'm going to ask you this: Do you know about the Fuyuki Holy Grail War?"

The immortal Wizard frowned slightly. "Of course I do."

A Holy Grail War is any battle that revolves around an omnipotent Holy Grail which is said to be capable of granting any wish. However, when preceded by "Fuyuki", any Magus knows that it refers to an exceedingly unique conflict in which Heroic Spirits are summoned as Servants to fight each other to the death.

Perhaps due to Association supervision being rather light in this small nation of the East, this Holy Grail War had repeated three times without drawing much attention. It was a poor joke to even suggest that an omnipotent wish-granting device could manifest in some Far East farmland - that was all the recognition the Association gave it.

However, that all changed by the Third Holy Grail War. The Second World War likely had an effect, as due to the intervention of various nations, the Holy Grail War of Fuyuki ended in unusual circumstances: The Greater Grail went missing.

Harry didn't know the full story as to how that could've happened, but whatever it was, it marked the end of the Fuyuki's conflict and with it, the dreams of the Three Families. Even so, the Einzberns did not give up and seemed to be crafting a new Grail. The Tohsakas, on the other hand, gave up the Grail. Nothing was heard from the presumably-decayed Matous. At the same time, information on the system behind this Grail War propagated throughout the Magi of the world.

Today, variations of the Holy Grail War ritual unfold across every continent. Of course, the majority of them are small in scale, with most only capable of summoning five Servants; even were the ritual itself established, it could not proceed to the point where it could grant any wish.

"As you may already know, the most important foundation of the Fuyuki ritual, the Greater Grail, disappeared from knowledge after the Third Holy Grail War. You know this, don't you? Well... three months ago, the Association finally found it. Or rather, they finally found out where it was hidden."

"Where?" Harry asked.

"Romania, in the city of Trifas on the outskirts of Transylvania. It's possible that it has been installed in the oldest building of the city - the Fortress of Millennia."

"How did the Greater Grail end up all the way over there? How did that happen?"

The man smirked. "The elder of the Yggdmillennia clan, Darnic, is what happened."

"...You mean _that_ Darnic? He was the one who stole it?"

"Yes - the 'Eight-Forked Tongue'."

Harry wasn't too surprised by this information.

Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia - the elder of the clan of Yggdmillennia, supposedly having lived for over a century. He attained the rank of Grand, the highest within the Association, and was a second-class instructor in elemental conversion. From what Harry have heard, however, his students had a rather low opinion of him. Rather than education, he exercised his true worth in politics.

Factional infighting, power struggles, competitions for budget - these were all ordinary occurrences within the Clock Tower. However, exhibiting extraordinary political skills, he manipulated and cheated anyone who trusted him, and even those who didn't, betraying and double-crossing – in other words, a first-rate swindler and real piece of work.

Zelretch continued. "That's not even the half of it. Not only does the Yggdmillennia clan own the Fortress of Millennia, they all have elected to secede from the Clock Tower as well."

Harry raised his eyebrows. This time, he was surprised. The act of defecting within the Associate itself in not uncommon either due to heresy or due to being so powerful that they had to be designated for sealing.

However, that is not the case when an entire clan secedes. It was essentially a declaration of war.

Then again... if they did possess something significant, it could be more than enough of an incentive to begin a secession. For example - an omnipotent wish-granting device, a Greater Grail which could show them the path to reaching Akasha.

The Master of Death inwardly groaned. Now he really wasn't sure if he wants to be involved in this Holy Grail War.

"If the Yggdmillennias have the Grail, and assuming that they have already assembled seven Masters, what's the point of me even joining when it's too late?"

Seeming very pleased with himself, Zelretch grinned.

"That's where you're wrong. You can still summon a Servant."

"...You lost me."

"That is the most intriguing aspect of this Holy Grail War. The number of Servants that can be summoned is twice the norm - fourteen."

"What...?"

"The last surviving Magus that the Associate have sent to exterminate the clans, discovered the dormant Greater Grail in the depths of the fortress. He managed to unlock the reserve system."

"Reserve?"

"Depending on the situation, the Greater Grail could support the Holy Grail War by once again distributing Command Spells. It was an auxiliary prepared as a countermeasure for the highly unlikely situation of all seven Servants joining forces."

"So basically... summoning another seven Servants to oppose the original seven Servants."

That makes fourteen in total. Harry understood the significance of this number.

"Exactly. The land of Trifas is positioned on the best leylines of Romania to begin with. Quite likely, it has been stockpiling prana at a higher speed than Fuyuki, to the point that it now possesses an inexhaustible amount of prana with which it can summon even fourteen Servants."

In Fuyuki, such a system would certainly have been an emergency measure. If worst came to worst, such an act might even have exhausted the leyline itself.

"So what you're saying is, if the Yggdmillennia have already got seven Masters and seven Servants, then..."

"...then the Associate will also assemble seven Masters and seven Servants, and will wage war upon the Yggdmillennia. They're already calling this the Great Holy Grail War."

"…"

Zelretch smirked. "So will you accept?"

Harry didn't reply, his mind debating. On one hand, he still believed that fighting a war for a supposed omnipotent, wish-granting artifact, is really not a smart idea. Magic or not, powers like that are not meant to be within the reach of humanity.

This particular Holy Grail War is also the largest one yet. Never before in history has a ritual of such scale been conducted. Just everything about this made his instincts scream _wrong_.

However…

This might be his only chance. He had been searching for so long throughout countless worlds, but it always led him to a dead end. Yet here he is, for the first time in five thousand years, where he could finally see an end.

The old Magician, perhaps sensing his companion's inner turmoil, pressed on.

"Regardless of what your choice may be, you know that you've already been chosen, right?"

Harry rolled up his sleeve and exposed a glowing mark on his left hand that looked disturbingly like the symbol of the Deathly Hallows. "I'm aware. This thing appeared just a few days ago. So does this mean I have to join the Clock Tower if I wish to participate this war?"

Merlin's beard, he hoped not. It hasn't even been a year since he first arrived to this world, yet Harry can confidently say that he's not too fond of Magi in general – especially those from the Clock Tower. They remind him far too much of the Pureblood supremacists with their elitist personality and holier-than-thou attitude.

Zelretch shook his head. "Not necessarily. From what I know, both camps haven't summoned all seven Servants yet. Whichever side you wish to ally yourself with is your choice.

"In any case," he pulled out a case from a bag. "A catalyst. Take it. The rest is up to you."

"Thank you. But before you go, I have just one question."

"Ask away."

"... Dare I ask where you got this catalyst from?"

"Oh, I borrowed it," Zelretch replied nonchalantly with a shit eating grin on his face.

Knowing that all too familiar grin, Harry gave him a silently-judging-you expression. "You mean you stole it."

"No, I borrowed it, " the man mockingly sniffed. "I just didn't ask for their permission. I did leave a note though, so it's not stealing. Really now, Harry, where's the trust?"

Harry face palmed.

Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg: Dead Apostle Ancestor, and master of the Second True Magic, "Kaleidoscope", is most possibly the biggest troll that Harry have ever encountered.

* * *

Once the sun had set and the curtains of night descended upon the city, Harry got to work straight away; his already secluded cottage was made Unplottable and Charmed to turn people away. He began to lay out the summoning circle in his backyard which had wide open space that was perfect for this task.

It had been a long time since he lived in solitude, the Wizard mused. After the summoning, however, he knew his relatively normal (albeit lonely) lifestyle will change rather radically. By how much, Harry wasn't sure.

Completing the ward of the summoning, the only things left now are the the catalyst to be offered and the incantation for the spell. At first glance, this may appear all too simple for a ritual meant to evoke a Heroic Spirit. However, as the Master is nothing more than the string which ties the Grail and the Servant together, this will not prove to be a problem.

Rummaging in a bag, Harry pulled out the case that held the catalyst inside, and opened it.

It was a blood-stained linden leaf. More specifically – he noticed as he took a small sniff on the catalyst – it is a linden leaf stained in _dragon's blood_. There was only one legendary hero that he could think of who's connected with the two.

He closed the case and placed it onto a makeshift alter. "That meddling old coot... He's really outdone himself this time. Wonder who's the poor sod he stole this from."

Thousands of miles away in Romania, a portly man from a certain clan began to sneeze and rage violently in panic as he searched every crevices throughout the fortress looking for his priceless catalyst in vain.

In his clenched fist is a note left by none other than Zelretch himself, apologizing for the "inconvenience" and that he needed to "borrow it for an unforeseeable future."

Back in England, after finishing the preparations for the ward quicker than he had expected, Harry stood near the blood drawn circle, and checked his watch.

It will soon be midnight: A time when his magic will be at its peak.

"Might as well get this started."

Maintaining a calm mental condition, he analyzed himself. According to Zelretch, the camps of the Servants for both sides have been decided; _Black_ for the Yggdmillennia clan's Servants, _Red_ for the Clock Tower's Servants.

_"Let silver and steel be the essence.  
Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.  
__The ancestor is my great master Schweinorg_.  
Let rise a wall against the wind that shall fall.  
Let the four cardinal gates close.  
Let the three-forked road from the crown reaching unto the Kingdom rotate."  


However, he will not be choosing a side. Rather than having to pick the lesser evil among the two, as long as he can get to the Grail, Harry was willing to work along side with whichever camp he will be aligned to._  
_

_"Let it be filled. Again. Again. Again. Again.  
Let it be filled fivefold for every turn,  
__Simply breaking asunder with every filling."_

With the first verse complete, the glow of the magic ward swelled.

_"I hereby propose._  
_My will shall create thy body,_  
_And thy sword shall create my fate._  
_Abiding by the summons of the Holy Grail,_  
_If thou dost accede to this will and reason, answer me."_

The incantation - the prana that now races within his Magic Circuits - is calling for a Heroic Spirit from the Throne of Heroes.  
_  
__"I hereby swear.  
I will be all that is good in the eternal world.  
I will be the disposer of evil in the eternal world.__"_

Despite his rampaging circuits, Harry continued regardless.

And now, the last verse.

_"Thou, clad with the Great Trinity,  
Come forth from the circle of constraint.  
Guardian of Heavenly Scales__!__"_

As soon as these words were spoken, a storm raged with a blinding light coming from the cottage's back surroundings and elaborately drawn magic ward. Few seconds later, the storm soon became a whisper, and the blinding light dimmed and faded.

Standing within the circle is a man whose entire body was encased in radiant armor. A greatsword is on his back. His silver-gray hair waved gently in the wind.

"In accordance to the summon, I present myself - the Servant, Saber of Black. I ask of you; are you my Master?"

In another world, where the Wizard did not stumble upon the Nasuverse, the Servant would have been summoned by his original Master, who then commands him to never speak in order to keep the possible hints towards his identity to a minimum.

By choosing to submit as a Servant of the Saber class, this would have fated to bring about a fatal misunderstanding between them, ultimately leading to his death.

But on this fated night, the Master of Death and the Dragon-Blooded Knight became the new Master and Servant, and will walk a different path.

For better or worse, that remains to be seen.

* * *

**A/N: I will let you all know right now; not only am I attempting my very first crossover, I'm also not an expert on the Fate series. So if you guys could leave constructive criticisms so that it can help me improve my story, that would be awesome.**

**So, read, review, and let me know what you guys think.**


	2. A Calm Before the Storm

**WARNING: Story contains spoiler for the Fate/Apocrypha light novel series.**

**It is also NOT beta-ed.**

**Please read at your own risk, and enjoy.**

* * *

"_Saber, what would you like to eat for breakfast?" An attractive young man with bottle green eyes, was currently rummaging through the fridge inside the kitchen of his small cottage. Sitting at the table was a silver-haired man in a black trouser and white shirt._

"_Frühstück, Master?"_

"_Yes. Do you have any preference?"_

"… _Meals aren't necessary for Servants. I will be fine even if I don't eat."_

_Though the other man had said that it was all right, for a brief second Harry could have sworn that his Servant looked glum in some way._

"_Oh, can you not eat?"_

_"I can, but…"_

_Meals aren't necessary for Servants. However, this did not mean that they had no sense of taste._

_In that case, what was needed was a good taste, and perhaps a bit of curiosity._

"_It'll be great. I've been told that I can cook some mean dish, you know."_

"_If that is what you wish, Master." Was the man's stoic reply._

_The teen couldn't help but pout at the response. "Geez, you're horribly unfussy when it comes to yourself, aren't you? In that case, I'll just cook up one of everything. I guarantee that at least one of them will fit to your taste buds," he said before turning back to his pantry._

_The Saber of Black was at a loss. Why was his Master doing all this for him, a Servant? He asked him so._

"_Why not?" the Wizard countered. "That's what friends do for each other, right? Besides, I enjoy cooking, so it's not a problem."_

_The man looked at his Master and then down at his hands. "Friends…"_

_Later that day, for the first time since the vanquish of the Dark Lord Voldemort, the Master of Death met his match known as the voracious appetite of his Servant._

_Needless to say, not a single meal was missed throughout the day since then._

* * *

One month later.

**- Bucharest, Romania -**

"_Ladies and Gentlemen, we're now approaching Bucharest, where the local time is 11 AM. At this stage, you should be in your seat with your seat belt firmly fastened..." _

"Harry, we are here." Dressed in black suit and tie, with a dark gray dress shirt underneath, was Siegfried, gently resting his large hand on his Master's shoulder to wake him from his slumber.

"Eh? Already...?" Harry yawned and stretched, while trying to rub the sleepiness out of his eyes. "And I was just getting comfortable, too," he sighed, leaning back onto the airplane seat.

A small smile made its way across Siegfried's lips. "We still have yet to reach Transylvania, so please try to stay awake until then."

"And from here we have to take the train to reach Sighisoara. Four and a half hours worth of travel right after a plane ride. Joy." The Wizard looked almost contemplative. "You know, you're actually taking this whole idea of manned flight and rail transportation surprisingly well. I would have thought that you'd be more... disconcerted."

"The Holy Grail imparts me with relevant knowledge and information that I need to blend into modern society," Siegfried replied curtly.

"Better than me, though," Harry chuckled lightly. "The first time when I had to ride a plane, I bloody near had a panic attack."

"It can't have been that horrible."

"Trust me, it was." He faced the window, light reflecting his demeanor that became serious. "So this is it. Trifas is just around the corner."

"Yes."

Harry closed his eyes. "And so, war is upon us once again after so many years since the Third Holy Grail War. An endless conflict which might not even produce a victor in the end."

"That will change," Siegfried declared, eyes narrowed in determination. "After all, I am Saber, the most excellent class of the Servant classes. You are one of the best Masters that I could have had. We will win, Harry."

He opened his eyes. "... Yes, we will. As long as the innocent don't get hurt by this war, then we can give everything we've got."

"Of course."

The Master gave a wistful smile. "At long last... I can finally be granted the chance to rest once and for all."

"..."

"Saber? Are you alright?" Harry asked, concerned by his Servant's sudden silence.

Siegfried looked down, folding his hand over his lap. "It is nothing."

Harry didn't look convinced but decides to let it go. "If you say so. But you know, Saber?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Despite what you may think about yourself, if you ask me, I think you already served your duty as the ideal hero. It's alright to be selfish."

The knight didn't respond, but he continued. "Still, just know that no matter your decision, I will always support you every step of the way."

"And I thank you for that."

"Of course. We're friends after all, right?"

"... Yes, we are friends."

* * *

**- London, England: Clock Tower -**

It is strange how the dim, empty room seems to twist all sense of distance. It appears unbelievably wide, and yet makes one feel uncomfortably pressed. The candles placed in its center faintly lit the faces of the men in the room, their features unclear and indistinct. The air within the vague boundaries of this room was filled with an inexpressible anguish.

"So... _he_ is there after all."

Three gathered here. One is an old man, short but straight-backed, the creases on the skin of his face gleaming like he were a statue carved of wood – Rocco Belfaban, the Head of the Department of Summoning who is said to have held this position for over fifty years, though no one is certain.

Another nodded at Belfaban's hoarse murmur.

"Yes. My familiars in Romania spotted a young man with black hair and green eyes, with a lightning shaped scar on the side of his forehead. There's no doubt about it; it is the _Serpent Witch."_

It was a younger man, handsome and with red hair. With a single glance at his strong, high-minded gaze and refined features, you can perceive that he is a member of the elite. There was a strong sense of duty in his words.

His name is Bram Nuada-De Sophia-Ri, the successor of the head of the Department of Evocation, and one of the first-class instructors employed by the Clock Tower.

The old man nod in agreement and shifts his gaze to the last person in the room who continue to maintain his silence. It is a man with loose long hair, furrowing his brows in seeming displeasure.

"What do you think, Lord El-Melloi?"

Lighting the cigar in his hand with the candle's flame, the man called El-Melloi, once known as Waver Velvet, shook his head slowly from side to side.

"We already went over this, elder. It's El-Melloi the _Second_. Please keep the 'II'. That name really is unbearably grating without it."

"My mistake. Please excuse this old man's memory. How do you perceive the situation, El-Melloi II?"

"Well... if the Serpent Witch is in Romania, then most likely he's there as a Master. I'm not sure if he's a participant of the Great Holy Grail War, but it's clear that we must alter our approach. After all, there is a reason why we call him by that moniker."

Harry James Potter. Notoriously known as the Witch of the Serpents. A Freelancer Witch who appeared out of nowhere less than a year ago, yet many have heard of his various exploits. He made a living by hunting Sealed Designates, Dead Apostles, and the like. He was also known for not failing a single mission – not a single one, as well as for his own brand of Magecraft. However, Potter never accepts missions that were morally ambiguous in nature, or were against his particular code of justice.

El-Melloi II inwardly scoffed. He sometimes wondered if Potter was naïve, but if nothing else, his unique Witchcraft, particularly his ability to paralyze his target's Magic Circuits, is frightening enough to make him feel apprehensive. According to the rumors, one strike is all that the Magus needs to take his target down – like that of a snake. Even worse, he can somehow conceal his presence completely like that of an Assassin class Servant.

And now, that very same Magus has been sighted in Romania with a strong possibility that he's a Master with Servant. Who might also be an enemy from the Black camp. This was not good.

However, none of this made sense. First of all, how did the Freelancer even know about this particular Grail War? Did the Yggdmillennias contract him to be one of their chosen representatives like the Association is doing? If so, why? Why not just pick one of their own clan members instead of selecting an outsider? What was going on?

The young Lord rubbed his forehead. The war hasn't even started yet, and already this is becoming one hell of a giant clusterfuck.

After a brief silence, he gives a clear and simple order.

"See if we can contact the chosen Freelancer representatives. Find out which camp the Witch is aligned to. It's a shame that we couldn't reach him on time to be one of our seven representatives, but if we're lucky, he might not even be involved in the Great War. If he is, however, then we must take action while we still can. The last thing we need is for the Yggdmillennias to have the Serpent Witch of all people as an ally."

The other two signal their agreement. "One of the Freelancers, Sisigou Kairi, and the Overseer that the Holy Church have sent, should already be in Romania. We can have one of them to confirm if the Witch is a bystander or an enemy of this war."

El-Melloi nodded. "Have you found out who that Overseer is? I didn't catch their name."

"I haven't met him personally, but it is a priest named, Kotomine Shirou."

Without another glance at one another, the three men each left the room in separate ways.

* * *

**- Transylvania, Romania: Brasov -**

Two men, one dressed in a black suit, and the other wearing black jeans and short hooded jacket, were seen walking together in the city of Brasov.

"I don't believe this. A bloody _transit failure_ for the rest of the day? Right when we're almost half way there? What are the odds!"

"It's not that bad, Harry."

"You're just saying that because now I can cook dinner for you tonight."

Siegfried looked away in an attempt to cover up his blush and embarrassment. "... I must admit that I do look forward on sampling the delicacies of your cooking."

Harry couldn't help but grin at this. For someone who's usually stoic, his Servant can be surprisingly endearing.

Seeing the grin on the Wizard's face, the redness on the man's face became more pronounced. "I- Let us go find shelter for the day while we can! I believe I saw an inn nearby in this direction earlier."

His grin just grew wider as he watched his Servant's hastily retreating form. For a day that Harry had expected to be fairly crappy, it was actually not that bad.

* * *

Siegfried watched the glowing twilight sky through the inn's large window as the sun began to set. They were able to rent a room in a small, yet cozy inn for a relatively cheap price. Harry was currently downstairs, cooking dinner by using the inn's kitchen after asking permission from the owner.

The man sighed. He was reluctant to admit it, but the past month had been some of the more happier days of his life. However, as the Servant Saber, and as Siegfried, the Dragon-Blooded Knight, he would, must, choose duty over personal comfort.

For now though, he would enjoy these last few moments of tranquility before the war.

As the knight continued to watch the sunset, his thoughts began to drift back to the talk he had with the Wizard Marshall earlier today before he and his Master left England for Romania...

* * *

"_I assume... that you wish to know why I am here and what I want to say to you, correct?" Zelretch asked. _

"_Yes. What have you to tell me?"_

"_Before that though, is your Master here?"  
_

"_No, he stepped outside just a few moments ago."_

_Zelretch sighed. "Good. Then I'll get straight to the point... It's about the brat."_

"_Harry?"_

_The Magician gave a knowing smile. "So you've grown fond of him. Even just a week ago, you refused to call him by his name. What changed, I wonder, to allow the cold Prince of the Netherlands who's known naught but his duties, to act affably around his Master?_

"_..." Siegfried looked away. "What I call and do with my Master is none of your concern, even if you are his companion. Now speak; what about Harry?"_

_Zelretch lost his cheerful demeanor. "It's more of a request, really. But I want you to help him to find a purpose."_

"_... What do you mean?"_

"_Give him hope. Give him a reason to look forward for the future even after the war ends. But most importantly, save him from himself. After all, I would hate to lose one of the few people who can put up with me._

"_Tell me honestly, because this is important," Zelretch said. "What is your opinion about Harry?"_

_Siegfried sighed softly and closed his eyes. "To be honest, I did not know what to make of him. Even though he knew of my status as a knight and a Servant... he refuses to believe that I am anything but human. Even going so far as offering genuine friendship._

"_During the last month we have spent together, not only have I found out that he is a very good friend and comrade in battle, he is also a respectable individual." He gave a fond smile. "Never once has he lied to me, nor ignored me. In fact, he has done his best to interact with me."_

"_He's one of a kind, isn't he?" Zelretch chuckled._

"_It is as you say. Harry... changes people. Always trying to help those in need, and offer a place to belong by his side. And now... I'm not sure as to what I desire anymore. Part of me still believe I must answer to the request and calls of others before my own selfish comfort. But the other part of my heart now yearns for the future, although I am not fated to have one. _

"_It's such a bittersweet feeling, but thanks to him, even if it is just a brief moment..." Siegfried looked out at the window and gazed at the clear, blue sky. "I am able to have this life."_

_Peaceful silence filled the room, with subtle sounds of birds chirping and car engines running in the distance._

"_Please take care of him, Saber. Despite his smiles, I can tell as clear as day that he's exhausted. He has been for a very long time. Can you imagine what it must be like, having to endure the anguish of living forever while everyone else who's dear to you grow old and die? Leaving you behind again and again, time after time, all alone." _

_Zelretch's eyes softened a little. "Yet, here he is, opening his heart to you after so many years of living in isolation. I know for a fact that he views you as a friend._

"_Ask yourself," he continues as he began to walk away. "What do you truly desire? Would you continue to let him be and defer to him as it is your duty as a Servant?... Or do you wish to stop him?"_

* * *

The Saber of Black gave a bitter, yet tragic smile. Part of him was appalled at the idea of deliberately going against his Master's obvious desire of his long awaited eternal rest. He had no right to stand in his way as a Servant.

But as _Siegfried._.. the very thought of Harry dying made his heart clench painfully. Because at some point in time, he began to see past the relationship between "Master" and "Servant". Because at some point in time, he began caring for his Master beyond that which was required of his duties.

He didn't know what to do.

"... What do I really want?"

"Saber, dinner's ready!" Harry called from downstairs.

... But for now, he will require sustenance. As the saying goes, one battle at a time.

* * *

**- Transylvania, Romania: Trifas -**

Two hours past midnight, and the city of Trifas is already deep in slumber, with the Fortress of Millennia looking down upon it as though in contempt. Standing beside a window in the castle is Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia, the elder of the Yggdmillennia clan, looking outwards.

He has been preparing for over sixty years. Ever since the Third Holy Grail War, he has been preparing for over sixty years by putting everything in order, discreetly in order to avoid drawing any suspicion.

However, not everything was running smoothly as planned.

His first misstep was allowing the information regarding the Fuyuki Holy Grail War to spread. Due to this, the holy relics which could act as catalysts disappeared left and right. The most venerable King of Heroes, the King of Knights with the greatest of holy swords, and the King of Conquerors who had controlled half the world – in time, all of their catalysts were scattered and became lost. Of course, the holy relics which the clan has gathered over the previous decades, under his orders, are enough to summon excellent Heroic Spirits. Certainly no less than the relics that the Association has independently gathered as well.

The second loose thread that he did not expect was the one surviving Magus from the fifty Magi that the Clock Tower have sent to infiltrate Trifas. He did not expect that they would activate the reserve system. But in a way, he had been prepared for that. He understood that the Association would most certainly hinder him once he commanded seven Servants.

Speaking of Servants, there was that third unexpected incident that occurred just a month ago. Although, to be fair, the interference of Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg of all people, was not something anyone would have expected.

Gordes had a breakdown on that day. It had taken quite a lot of time and effort to get his hands on the blood-stained linden leaf, even through good connections with his old friends, the Einzberns. Simply put, it was an extraordinary luck to even get his hands on such a holy relic... And then it was stolen by the Wizard Marshall himself. Complete with a _sticky note._ That has "hugs and kisses" next to his signature.

Fortunately, Gordes was able to get a back up catalyst from the Einzberns a month later since that mishap. It is a shame that they wouldn't be having the legendary hero, Siegfried, as one of their Servants. But there is no use crying over spilled milk. In the end, everything still worked out.

In a few more hours, the Yggdmillennia will light the beacon of rebellion against the Mage's Association.

The Association, without a doubt, will summon high-ranking Heroic Spirits. However, no Heroic Spirit could possess greater fame in Romania than his Lancer. Ever since Lancer was summoned three months ago, he has been making full use of one of his innate skills to transform Trifas and the surrounding areas into a land he ruled over as Lord.

As long as he is within this territory, Lancer receives boosts in the ranks of all his parameters, and his Noble Phantasm becomes usable. The only difficulty has been the Servant's somewhat obstinate nature. However, Darnic is hopeful that, with their goals being the same, this will not prove to be a problem.

They have also grasped who the enemy will send. Aside from the Overseer from the Church, all six are Magi who specialized their arts towards warfare. However, they all suffer the fatal handicap of having to provide prana for their Servants. Having devised a way to resolve said handicap, the Yggdmillennia's victory is unshakable.

* * *

In the throne room, where the ritual would take place, four other Masters have already gathered. There are also Homunculi taking care of various menial tasks and silently bringing in the required Thaumaturgical tools.

The magic ward itself has already been drawn. It uses a mixture of gold and silver, kept in a liquid state by a temperature-retaining technique. This complex and delicate ward was devised to summon multiple Servants at once.

All noise came to an abrupt stop. Darnic chose this moment to move to a spot next to the throne and declare with outspread arms.

"Place the catalysts you have each gathered upon the altar."

The Masters nodded.

The first - Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia, a portly man. With a single look at his expression, one can tell that he is a pompous man. His craft is alchemy. His catalyst is a ring, glinting eerily in the light.

The second - Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillennia, the girl in the wheelchair; his most favored and chosen successor of the clan. Her craft is spiritual evocation and human engineering. Her catalyst is an ancient arrow, its tip blackened by something - perhaps blood.

The third - Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia. Her craft is the dark arts. Despite her clean-cut appearance, her entire body reeked of blood; likely it is due to her kissing the innards taken from the bellies of beasts and humans to be used as sacrifices. Her catalyst is a glass bottle. There are still stains of some kind of liquid remaining inside.

The fourth - Caules Forvedge Yggdmillennia, the younger brother of Fiore. His craft is summoning. With the freckles on his childish face, one would not think that he is eighteen years old. Diffidently, he muttered the spell for summoning Heroic Spirits over and over again. His catalyst is an old piece of paper. On it is drawn a human figure, with the words, _"_The Ideal Human_"_ scribbled in the lower right corner.

And the fifth, who has already completed his summoning - Roche Frain Yggdmillennia, the Master of Caster. He is likely the youngest among those present; the thirteen year old was watching the scene with interest from slightly further away.

"Rare of you to leave your workshop, Roche."

Roche shrugged when Darnic called out to him.

"Well, this _is _a Heroic Spirit summoning. You would be lucky just to see it once in your whole life. Even I'd leave my workshop if I can see it a second time."

Caster had been summoned by Roche three months ago, at nearly the same time as Lancer, and they have spent the entire time manufacturing the golems they would need for the Great War in their workshop within the castle.

"Where is Caster?"

"Oh, the master will be coming soon. He's a bit busy with the design of his Noble Phantasm."

"Then I must give my apologies later. But let us gaze upon this mysterious ceremony once more."

"All right."

Roche shrugged. The boy called his own Servant his "master" out of respect. To him, the legends that Caster gave rise to are worthy of worship. He has every trust in Caster, and feels genuine happiness at helping him in the workshop.

Caster materialized next to Roche before long, appearing in his blue mantle and full-body suit and wearing an eyeless, mouthless, featureless mask. Roche called out to his teacher in joy, and Caster wordlessly nodded.

Confirming the positions of the four summoners, Darnic lowered his head in reverence towards the empty throne.

"My Lord, we will now begin the summoning."

_'__… Very well.'_

Particles of light gathered on the throne, massing together and creating a human form. The man whom Darnic called Lord was dressed in royal fashion, black as a shadow in the night. By contrast, his face was shudderingly pale, and his silk-like white hair stretched long.

The instant he appeared, the air in the throne room became tense. When the man stands, one feels overwhelming pressure.

He is the strongest trump card prepared by the elder of Yggdmillennia, the Lancer of Black - _Vlad III._

The greatest hero of Transylvania, known fearsomely as the "Lord Impaler" to the Turks, had also spread another name across the world.

_The Little Dragon_... or, the vampire, Count Dracula.

Of course, the one before them is not a vampire at all. He was a man of devotion, and a hero who ascended to the throne, no matter how small the nation may be. Especially here in Romania, where his deeds of turning back the numerous invasions of the Ottoman Empire, the Turks who have trampled over every other country, made him a great hero.

Thus, as long as he is in Romania, he has possibly the greatest fame of all - a match for Heracles in Greece, or King Arthur in Britain.

After a glance at Darnic, Lancer's majestic voice echoed through the chamber.

"Now, call the Heroic Spirits who would serve under me!"

"As you wish."

With a respectful bow, Darnic then announced to the four Masters.

"Let us begin, proud Magi of Yggdmillennia. With the completion of this ritual, we take our retractable first step onto the path of war. Do you possess the resolve?"

The four Masters kept silent, revealing their conviction.

The air in the throne room changed again. The senses of the four Masters sharpened, so that even the pressure of the Lord Impaler watching them from behind was pushed aside for the time being.

It is true that the summoning of a Servant is simpler than the complications of a normal greater ritual. However, the ultimate mystery of summoning a Heroic Spirit is something that can take one's life if performed incorrectly.

It is foolish to charge forward recklessly, but to inch forward and confirming the safety of every step is also just as unwise. What's needed are detachment and resolution - being able to point the barrel at your own head and pull the trigger swiftly.

_"Let silver and steel be the essence.  
__Let stone and the archduke of contracts be the foundation.  
Let **black** be the color I pay tribute to..."_

They had not rehearsed this beforehand, but they all spoke the incantation in harmony without a single word out of place._  
_

_"I hereby propose._  
_My will shall create thy body,_  
_And thy sword shall create my fate._  
_Abiding by the summons of the Holy Grail,_  
_If thou dost accede to this will and reason, answer me."_

Prana began to race within their Magic Circuits, calling for Heroic Spirits.

_"I hereby swear.  
I will be all that is good in the eternal world.  
I will be the disposer of evil in the eternal world."_

Three of the Masters paused at this precise moment. Only Caules, watching for this opening, continued with another verse.

_"But let chaos cloud thine eyes.  
Thou who art trapped in a cage of madness.  
And I, who doth hold thy chains.__" _

The additional incantation for _Mad Enhancement. _With this, it is certain that the Servant he summon will be a Berserker – a Servant class who will be afflicted by madness to some degree.

Despite the torment of their raging circuits and the fear that they would run out of control, the four felt something that was the degree of exaltation during this ritual. However, they had to continue forward – in their grasp will be the greatest mystery of all.

In that flowing light, brimming with miracles, and surpassing Thaumaturgy, were Heroic Spirits attempting to enter their world.

_"Thou, clad with the Great Trinity,  
Come forth from the circle of constraint.  
Guardian of Heavenly Scales!"_

At the same time as these words were spoken, there was a raging storm and a blinding light.

As soon as the light dimmed and the wind calm, there, standing within the circle are four figures.

One is a petite girl in a white dress. In her hand, a giant mace. With empty eyes, she slowly looked at her surroundings.

The second is a androgynous-looking boy, fancily dressed. Out of the four, only he is looking at the Masters with a wide smile on his face.

The third is a man with a bow in his hand. Wrapped around by a grass-colored cloak, he knelt on one knee and faced the ground.

And the last is a beautiful woman wearing a open top helm. Her upper body encased in dark armor, with an off white battle skirt. In her hands are a radiant battle shield and a spear.

"Ahh..."

There was a sound of wonder from someone in the room. Even Darnic's eyes were stolen by their majestic appearance. As thus, the Servants spoke the words of the beginning as one.

"In accordance to the summons, we present ourselves - the Servants of Black. Our fates shall be with Yggdmillennia, and our swords shall be as your swords."

* * *

**A/N:** **So I hope you guys enjoyed reading this chapter. And thank you to all who reviewed my first chapter. Your encouragements as well as feedback really helped me out. If you have any more you would like to add, please do. **

**Your reviews actually gives me encouragement to continue writing this story, and will also help me feel inspired to create a new chapter. Again, for all those who reviewed on the previous chapter, thank you very much.**

**So please read, review, and as always, let me know what you think. **

***For all those who's wondering if there will be any pairings in this story, my answer is no. It will be a gen-fic with _maybe_ an undertone of suggested romance in it, but nothing more than that. This means no het/slash/femslash. **

**Perhaps if this becomes popular enough and I have demands, then I'll think about making a pairing fic as a side-story from this one. But until then, I don't really plan on writing obvious romance for this particular story.**


	3. Count Down

**WARNING:**** Story contains ****spoiler for the Fate/Apocrypha light novel series.**

**It is also NOT beta-ed.**

**Please read at your own risk, and enjoy.**

* * *

_It was a horrifying, bloody battlefield. Ghouls, demons, creatures that belonged to the deepest pits of Hel, Náströnd…_

_Siegfried plunged his sword into another undead. _

_This is what his Master does?_

_There was no glory in this combat. There was no honor in killing things that were no better than mindless beasts. On this battlefield, it was kill or be killed. Slay or be slain. _

_He turned his head to avoid another ghoul, and brought his blade across its neck. The headless body collapsed, like a puppet with its strings cut. _

_However, more followed; hundreds of the abominations, shadowed by a burning village. There was no end in sight…_

_As Siegfried prepared himself to lunge forward, he noticed a flash of light by the corner of his eye. A white light shot past him and slashed across the neck of an undead that had gone unnoticed, beheading it. _

_"You missed one, Saber." _

_That was his Master. Gone was his usual bright demeanor, and instead had an uncharacteristic dark look on his face. He was dressed in his typical hooded jacket and jeans, except it was now stained red at the sleeves. His right hand and arm was still outstretched from when he had casted the curse. _

_"My apologies, Master." _

_"Hey, don't worry about it. 'Sides, right now... we have a job to do." _

"_Understood; leave it to me." _

_He heard the other male sigh. "You know you're not alone, right? Not anymore, I mean." _

_"I can fight alone, Master. Your safety is paramount."_

_"Two opponents are harder to face than one; you do realize that, right?" He sighed once more. "Well, looks like I might have to prove that teamwork trumps any ridiculous notion that you have of fighting all by yourself." He conjured a ring of fire, getting ready to cast the Firestorm charm. "Here they come, Saber!" _

_And with a wordless battle cry, the Master and Servant pair launched themselves towards the horde of the undead._

_Siegfried would look back on that night, and he would remember it as the first time he stood back to back with his Master in combat. _

_It would not be the last time, either._

* * *

"Harry, last night – "

"Yeah, I felt it." Harry stared at his left hand, the one which a stylized symbol of the Deathly Hallow was etched. "The last of the Heroic Spirits have been summoned. The war has begun."

He spread a map of Romania onto the small table.

"Shall we prepare for war then, Siegfried – my Dragon-Blooded Knight?"

The Servant gave a nod of agreement. "Yes, lets. Have you determined the identities of all of the Masters, then?"

"As of last night, I was able to uncover our potential allies and opponents, as well as whom we will be fighting, thanks to my network of… spies." Harry smirked.

Siegfried suppressed a small shiver. "_Die Schlangen?_" he asked.

The knight personally didn't have anything against snakes, and found his Master's unique ability to speak their language rather fascinating ("Parseltongue", he calls it). Despite this, however, to see him converse with the creatures filled with eerie hisses – no matter how many times he hears them – sends an involuntary chill down his spine.

If Harry saw his discomfort, he pretended not to notice.

"Yes. Now, as we all know, there are two groups in this particular war: The Masters and Servants of Black and Red. Aside from the Ruler class Servant that will appear before us in a few more days, there should be a total number of seven Servants on each side of the faction, making this undoubtedly the greatest Holy Grail War Apocrypha of all… Or at least it should have been seven classes."

The Servant looked up with a start. "What do you mean?"

"From what I've been told, the Yddgmillennias already have all seven Servants located in Trifas. That shouldn't be possible, since you, the Saber of Black, is with me. If what my snakes say is true, and there are a total of eight Servants in the Black Faction instead… then we might be facing a total of_ fifteen to sixteen _Masters. The question is what is this unknown eighth class and how will this affect the war?"

Harry then took out a folder from his trunk and spread seven pictures onto the table.

"While we were still in England, I've already done some research on all the members of the Yggdmillennia and potential representatives of the Clock Tower, including Freelances. From what I can determine, these are the ones chosen by the grail to compete in this war. This line up of Masters should prove to be fairly intimidating.

The elder of the Yggdmillennia, Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia, is obviously one of the Masters. On his side, the other six Masters are: Fiore Forvedge Yggdmillenia, Caules Forvedge Yggdmillennia, Celenike Icecolle Yggdmillennia, Roche Frain Yggdmillennia, and Gordes Musik Yggdmillennia.

The seventh Master is supposed to be a man of Japanese descent named Hyouma Sagara. My scouts haven't seen him here yet, so maybe he sent a proxy? But there are records of him being given a catalyst – specifically six sets of knives. All the members of the Black camp, with the exception of Hyouma, are accomplished Magi and shouldn't be taken lightly."

His Servant crossed his arms, looking contemplative. "They are our allies of this war, yes? So why do you speak of them almost as if they are our enemies?"

"You may never know when supposed allies can betray you if they no longer see you as useful or a threat. From what I've heard about Darnic Yggdmillennia, the guy _specializes_ in backstabbing, even to his own friends and family. Since we're an 'outsider' despite being part of the Black Faction, it's best to be cautious, especially in an unfamiliar Magi territory. As they say, constant vigilance is the key to survival and victory."

Siegfried's lips thinned. He knew all too well about betrayal. After all, it was due to this very reason that ultimately took his life…

Harry then took out another seven pictures from the folder.

"Next up are the Masters from the Red camp. The Mage's Association apparently decided not to choose elite families of the Clock Tower as their representatives due to the pressing time. Instead, they've contracted six Freelance Magi and an Overseer from the Church."

Harry frowned. "The six Freelances are all renowned Magi who specialize in combat and bounty hunting. I've worked with some of them before, so I know firsthand that they can be pretty ruthless. But this particular one right here," he tapped his finger on a photo to his right, "is the one we've got to look out for the most. Sisigou Kairi: A really nice guy despite his tough biker gang image. But he's one hell of a Necromancer… It's too bad that we're opponents this time. We usually grab a cup of coffee or tea after a satisfying job well done."

"Harry. The data," Siegfried stated bluntly.

"Yes, yes, I apologize. Ignore this old man and his nostalgic ramblings. Anyway, the last photo right here is the chosen Overseer. His name is Kotomine Shirou, and is the adopted son of Kotomine Risei… the only survivor in the Third Holy Grail War in Fuyuki City. Call me paranoid, but something tells me that his selection as the Overseer isn't just a coincidence. Best we look out for this one as well." The black haired teen took a few breaths.

The knight sat in silence. "I see. Have you found the identity of their Servants as well?"

"Unfortunately, I do not know what catalysts each factions have used to summon their Servants, except for Hyouma. Most likely one of them will summon Vlad III as a Servant since the war is being held here in Transylvania, where his legend and fame are at their highest. My scouts, as smart and cunning as they may be, are still just animals – they won't be able to accurately describe man-made objects because they're something that they can't comprehend."

Siegfried grounds his teeth. "So, we have absolutely no idea what Servants most of the Masters have… At least we know the identities of the Masters. How would you rate their levels of danger?"

Harry hummed, deep in thought.

"Most of the Masters of the Yddgmillennia, I can defeat with ease. They may be skilled Magi, however, they're predictable – too set in their ways. Fiore Yggdmillennia might be a challenge since there must be a reason why Darnic chose her as his successor. But if the rumors are correct, as powerful as she may be, she's a kind girl – perhaps too kind. And the life of a Magus might be too much pressure for her throughout this war.

The Freelances might not be too much of a problem in the long run. If there's one thing that they all value, it's the monetary reward. Fortunately for us, money will never be an issue. So we ask, they demand, we give, and they'll be off our backs. The snakes haven't seen most of them in Romania, so we'll worry about them later. The only exception to this would be Kairi, but he's not someone I can't handle. Really, the only ones I would need to look out for are Darnic Yggdmillennia and Kotomine. Personally, I think that Kotomine is quite possibly the most dangerous Master in this entire war."

Siegfried raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Barring myself, yes."

He maintained a completely serious expression, proving that he wasn't kidding when he claimed that Kotomine Shirou was deadly.

"The reason for this is mainly because compared to the information that I've gathered for all the Masters, Kotomine is the only one I have the least amount of. Aside from the fact that he's adopted and that he's a priest from the Church, that's all that I have. No original birthdate, biological parents, nothing. Not even his blood type. And that's not normal, even if he may be a Magus. Firsthand experience, the least amount of info you have on the person, the more dangerous they may potentially be."

"Basically, an unknown enemy," Siegfried asked slowly. "… Do you think you can defeat him?"

Harry laughed. "Perhaps, in a fair battle. But even if the odds are against me," he grinned, a predatory and bloodthirsty grin. "I am not a Magus. I am an old soldier, with well over five thousand years of experience. I have seen worlds at war, and have emerged victorious. Unless the conditions are truly unfavorable, none of the Masters should truly be a threat.

We will win the war, Saber. That is our promise to one another. I am just saying, and reminding you: Do not underestimate the opponent. Never, ever underestimate the enemy. For that slight misjudgment can lead to your end… as it has for my own enemies in the past."

"Mmm," the Servant sighed. "Well then... shall we start getting ready to leave? The train to Sighisoara should be running now."

"Yes, let's go."

At that moment a growl was heard from the silver-haired knight's stomach area, effectively breaking a tense atmosphere.

There was a long moment of awkward silence.

Feeling his face burn all the way down to his neck, Siegfried cleared his throat in an attempt to dispel his mortification. This caused Harry to snicker.

"… Master, I…"

"Breakfast is coming right up."

* * *

_Harry dreamed. He's dreamt the same sequential dreams since he first summoned his Servant. In his dreams he saw a young prince who lived in a castle on a river. Even before he reached his age of manhood, he performed so many daring feats, such as the slaying of the evil dragon in the linden tree, and the capture of rich treasures. _

_He was also a captain who led his soldiers, and surmounted every field of battle without a single defeat. At the same time, he was an ideal selfless hero who saved and helped others; always following through to his duties. But as a result, the prince was never happy. _

_He also dreamed of a beautiful woman who was sleeping while surrounded by fire. The prince, as a request from his brother-in-law and friend, awoke her from her slumber and then presented the woman as the said friend's wife. The woman, however, fell in love with the prince and believed that her rightful husband was him instead. In a fit of rage and betrayal, she swore that she will have her revenge. _

_In this particular dream, he dreamed of the prince who was in the forest with his friends on a hunting trip for wild games. As he was drinking from a brook, one of his companions took this chance to strike him on his back – his only weakness – using the Blade of Betrayal in the shape of a spear. _

_The prince was struggling, trying to stay alive for just a bit longer. He wanted to avenge himself. Scream in fury. Cry from despair; perhaps all at the same time. He didn't know what to feel. But most of all, why, he wanted to ask. Why was he betrayed? Weren't they friends? What has he done to deserve this dishonorable death from one of the ones he called his dearest friends?_

"_Why, Hagen…?"_

_The man, now known as Hagen, sneered down at the bleeding prone body and spoke._

_"You've become too arrogant, Siegfried. In the honor and reign of my king and brother, Gunther, you must be eliminated."_

_The dying prince gasped for breath. "… Gunther… won't let you get away with this…"_

"_That's where you're wrong," Hagen smirked maliciously. "King Gunther himself was the one who plotted for your death. For dishonoring his Queen, this is the price that the king wants for you to pay. I just happened to volunteer to carry out his order. Goodbye, 'friend.' May you enjoy the rest of your eternal life in Hel."_

_The prince tried to stand and reach out for the man who was now walking away, but that wish was not to be granted. He expired rapidly and was left alone in the wilderness._

_It was this scene that Harry dreamt of: The betrayal and death of Prince Siegfried by the hands of those he once considered his friends._

* * *

**-Transylvania, Romania: Sighisoara – **

Harry let out a sigh as he stretched his arms after stepping out of the train. "What a nap. So this is Sighisoara, huh."

Siegfried, who was now in his spirit form, nods his head.

"_Yes, and the distance from here to Trifas is only a few hours away."_

"Good. Then it seems we will be able to get there by tonight."

"'A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!'"

The two abruptly ended their discussion and looked towards the source of the shout.

The sound came from a man, foppishly dressed in refined Medieval-esque clothing, walked briskly towards them while spreading his arms wide and shouting. It was an enemy Servant, although they didn't sense any hostility from him.

After a brief silence, Harry spoke.

"Isn't that a quote from the play, _Richard III, _during a final climax of the battle of Bosworth Field?"

The man's shoulders lifted as he grinned with jubilance at the Wizard's words.

"O, my dear Sir! Words cannot describe the bliss in my heart of how someone who lives in this age finally acknowledges one of my greatest works! Are you an Englishman by any chance? It would certainly explain your fine taste in literacy!"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Your 'greatest works'? Are you saying… that you're _the_ William Shakespeare? You've been summoned as a _Servant?"_ He couldn't quite cover the astonishment in his voice. However, he knew that the man in front of him was not lying.

Legilimency is a useful art at times like this… As long as the Servant's rank of Magic Resistance and Magical Power do not exceed his Legilimency skill level, he should be able to use it and get away unnoticed.

William Shakespeare - the only playwright whose fame had reached around the world. To say that one has no knowledge of his works is to be disparaged as ignorant. It is even said that if one were to trace the source of any piece of modern literature, one would always find a Shakespearean creation.

Harry, himself, is a fan of Shakespeare and his plays, even before he went to Hogwarts. So to see the very man that he has idolized is walking around in the modern world as a Servant, have put him in a state of awe.

Siegfried, sensing his Master's dazed emotions from their link, felt a twinge of irritation he couldn't quite suppress and mentally jostled him.

Harry grimaced slightly from the sudden mental jab and scowled at his invisible companion subtly from the corner of his eyes. Alright, so he should have stayed more focused. But hey, he's British; he's grown up knowing the man! So sue him!

A Servant's name is the most important piece of information of all. It would be unthinkable to simply reveal it without a thought. The grasping of a Servant's true name inevitably leads to everything from their Noble Phantasm to their strengths, and conversely, their weaknesses.

However, Shakespeare didn't look at all concerned of his identity being revealed. Rather, his grin just grew wider.

"Indeed I am, my good sir! Caster of Red is my name and title of this Great Holy Grail War. I assume, seeing how you were able to easily identify me as a Servant, that you are a Master?"

"Yes. But I'm sure that you knew that already as soon as you sensed me arriving here," Harry replied easily, "as well as the one who is walking towards us now is your Master."

Said Master who was now in front of him, was a robed young man who looked close to Harry's own physical age. It was the priest sent by the Holy Church.

The priest gave a very mature smile on his innocent boyish face.

"It seems that you have already met my Servant. It's my pleasure to meet you. I am Kotomine Shirou - the acting Overseer for this Great Holy Grail War."

There was something quite crooked about the look on his face. It was a very judicious smile, not something that a boy not even over twenty should make.

"Since you have already seen my Servant, could you please materialize your own?" Kotomine requested. "I won't ask you to reveal their class and name, of course, since it's my own Servant's fault for revealing his. It's only fair, don't you think?"

Harry cocked his eyebrow. "No, I don't think so."

"If it is because I am a Master of the Red Faction, then rest assure; as the Overseer of the war, I will not be taking any sides of either faction, despite myself being aligned with the Red camp. I'm just simply curious as to what your Servant looks like."

The Wizard refused to budge.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm sure that you're a nice bloke and all. But I'm sure you can also tell right away that I'm not part of the Yggdmillennia clan despite me part of the Black Faction. I don't plan on taking my chances of 'being fair' towards anyone, especially from those of the Red Faction, Overseer or not."

Kotomine hummed thoughtfully. "I see… I can understand your reluctance then. I sincerely apologize. I did not intentionally mean to make you feel uncomfortable when the war has not yet even started."

"Hey, no harm's done, right?" The Wizard waved his hand. "And as for Caster's identity, I don't plan on spreading the information around, so no one's going to know besides myself."

"I thank you for your generosity," the priest bowed.

"Err, right," Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I'll be one my way now. It's been nice seeing you, Kotomine, Caster. See you guys on the battlefield in a few days."

He began to walk away and remained silent until the Overseer and his Servant were no longer visible and out of hearing range.

"_Harry, are you alright?"_ Siegfried asked, looking concerned. _"You felt tense the entire time while you were with the Overseer."_

His Master remained silent for a few second.

"… I was right, Saber. Kotomine is most definitely going to be our greatest obstacle in this war."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "That man… He doesn't only have Caster as his Servant; he was hiding another one the entire time. He's controlling_ two_ Servants."

"… _What?"_

While such a thing is possible, it is rather irregular. There has never been a case of a single Master commanding two Servants in prior Grail Wars. One would barely be able to prevent a self-inflicted death via prana drain. In that case, just how much prana does this man have reserved in him?

"You probably didn't sense them since the second Servant was also in a spirit form – most likely an Assassin if that's the case. But I was able to see their magical structures clearly, due to my title as the Master of Death and the Resurrection Stone that's within me."

The Resurrection Stone… one of the three mysterious magical artifacts rumored to have been created by Death himself, the Deathly Hallows. Siegfried remembers the tale surrounding their origins from his Master, and how he has gathered them all, making him the "Master of Death"… As well as being the cause of his immortality.

"But something else bothers me about that Overseer."

"'_Something else'?"_

"Every living being have magical lines and structures that surrounds them, even just a little bit, which identifies who or what they are. Servants are unique because they're spirits, yet possess a material body bound by a Master to function in this world. But Kotomine… didn't have the exact same structure of humans. Instead, for some reason, his sort of resembles that of a Servant."

* * *

"That didn't go so well. I'm afraid that he might have sensed something. But it was to be expected. He is that infamous Witch, after all."

"Why did you let him go?" The Assassin of Red as she materialized next to her Master. "As I see it, uncertainty is the first enemy we must eliminate. There is still time - could we not send an agent after him and his Servant?"

Shirou quickly rejected Assassin's merciless suggestion.

"No, no, we shouldn't. Not only do we not even know what class his Servant is, it's still much too early for fighting when we have yet to fully prepare for war on our side. Speaking of preparations, how is it going with your Noble Phantasm, Assassin? The materials you lack should have all been gathered by now."

"Yes, only the ritual required to establish it as my Noble Phantasm remains. I need three more days."

"I see. Then it seems we will be able to breach Trifas in three days' time."

"Yes, we need only to have the doves act as our scouts for these few days."

"'Some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some have greatness thrust upon them!'"

Shirou – rather nervously, as though he felt somewhat apologetic – looked at Shakespeare.

"...Was that from one of your works, Caster?"

The playwright's shoulders dropped as he sighed with disappointment.

"Oh, _Master!_ How can it be that a stranger knows one of my greatest works, yet my own Master does not! You must take the time to read this!"

He held out a bulky hardcover. Apparently, he had just visited a book shop in order to buy his own work.

"I might have been summoned by the Holy Grail, but it could hardly have granted me such knowledge as details about your works. All you are to me is 'a famous writer of history.'"

Hearing Assassin's comment, the Caster of Red gazed upwards and lamented.

"O Queen of Assyria, let me hear no more of such painful words, I beg you. Every line you speak is a refusal of my very individuality!"

"...Yes, I suppose you would see it that way. But Caster, what has happened that required you to appear in material form in the first place?"

Her question immediately stopped all of Shakespeare's exaggerated grieving.

With a cough, he spoke again with some discomfort.

"Ah, yes, well... 'lovers and madmen have such seething brains', as the phrase goes, but the one we know as Berserker at times conducts himself in a way most unappealing to logic..."

"...Has Berserker begun his rampage?"

"Oh, no," Shakespeare answered Shirou.

"Then what exactly is the matter? Explain yourself."

Assassin approached her fellow Servant, her face contorted into an irritated scowl. With a smile like that of a jester's, the Caster of Red delivered the news.

"Berserker has begun his march on Trifas. It seems he has discerned the enemy which he must strike."

"...What?"

"Oh my... that _is_ troubling news."

Assassin was lost for words whereas Shirou's murmur was practically casual.

"For now, Archer is in pursuit, but whether or not she can stop him may as well be decided by the flip of a coin... well, it is mostly likely that she will fail."

"This is no laughing matter, Caster," Assassin muttered bitterly.

While all the Servants of Red have been assembled, they are not fully prepared for war. This is without mentioning the Servants of the Yggdmillennia who wait within the impregnable Fortress of Millennia, in perfect condition and awaiting their advance - Berserker has no chance of breaking through by himself. His march will only end in the meaningless death of a Servant.

"How will we proceed, Master? My Noble Phantasm is not yet prepared. In such a state, it would be senseless for us to make our attack. Our only choice is to leave him to his fate."

"'Mischief, thou art afoot. Take thou what course thou will...'"

"Oh? So it was you who spurred him, then, Caster?"

Shakespeare ended all of his excessive gesturing and averted his gaze with seeming embarrassment.

"So it was _you_ who told him of the location of Trifas! You little...!"

"Oh, but the pitiful Berserker wishes only to seek the adversary for his rebellion – I cannot possibly stand idle while he is filled with such anguish!"

To Shakespeare, this world truly is the greatest story ever told. Or rather, it _ought to be_ so; for he loved from the bottom of his heart all that are out of the ordinary, and pursued the tales which they spun.

That is why he is willing to employ deception and provocation – anything for the sake of the story.

"More and more, you prove yourself to be nothing but trouble...!" Assassin sighed, but Shakespeare replied gracefully.

"Now you know that I am what they call a 'troublemaker'... or perhaps 'trickster' is more fitting."

"There's no helping it, then... We will have to ask Archer to support Berserker. But give her strict orders to retreat if the situation turns disadvantageous. Berserker cannot be stopped - even if his Master expends a Command Spell, it will only delay the inevitable."

"Yes, Master. My scouts shall pass your words unto Archer."

"And as Overseer, I will have to follow Berserker and deal with whatever is left in his path. I will not be able to act for some time. Do keep out of trouble, won't you, Caster?"

Because Shirou is also the Overseer, he must of course do everything in his power to preserve the secrecy of Thaumaturgy. After all, if Berserker is heading for Trifas in a direct line, it is highly likely that he has been seen. If only he were in spirit form... But, as the Overseer, he could determine that it would be meaningless to expect that sort of logical thinking in a Berserker... especially _that_ one.

"Oh, yes. I understand, my Master..."

As though to encourage his disheartened Servant, Shirou said with a soft smile,

"Fear not, Caster. The battle shall soon be joined. With seven Black Servants and seven Red Servants, it shall be the greatest of Holy Grail Wars – the Great War of the Holy Grail. I do believe that this battle will satisfy your love of stories."

* * *

– **Transylvania, Romania: Trifas – **

Trifas becomes a silent place in the dead of night. There are no lights shining from the houses and no stores that operate through the night. Only streetlamps illuminated the darkness - weak light that can do little against the deep shadows.

Siegfried and Harry are on their way to the Fortress of Millennia, as well as searching for a place from which they will launch their assault in a worst case scenario if the Yggdmillennias were to deem them as adversaries.

The fortress is located north-east of Trifas and the three hectares surrounding it are forests. Trifas is situated on a plateau rising from west to east, so one can watch over the entire city from the highest point of the fortress.

As such, Harry and his Servant, who already materialized, would need to begin their search south of the fortress. The best choice would be a tall building, not so close to the fortress but not also so far that nothing can be seen.

Before they could find such a location, however, Harry suddenly narrowed his eyes as he looked to his sides left and right.

"Saber, be prepared for battle. We're being watched."

As soon as he spoke those words, a mass of what appeared to be birds flew out from the surrounding buildings. Harry inwardly cursed. Have the Yggdmillennias already decided to fight them as enemies? Before he could say another word, Siegfried had already changed into his armor and was ready for combat.

"... What are those?"

Due to the darkness of the night, it was difficult for even Harry to see anything beyond vague movements and magical structures he could not identify. However, with his extraordinary sight, Siegfried could clearly see the form of the coming attackers.

"Golems!"

Four stone golems, seemingly modelled after dragonflies, descended upon them from all directions. Siegfried leapt and destroyed one, then landed on the closest one on the ground and hacked down the other two.

"_Verdammt_... there are more!"

Siegfried brought his sword to bear without a moment's pause. Humanoid and non-humanoid golems appeared from all around them - they must have been camouflaged on the roofs of the nearby buildings. But there were more; humans gripping halberds appeared seemingly out of nowhere and, together with the golems, surrounded the pair.

No... Their faces were too expressionless for humans. In fact, their faces were all so similar to one another that they might be mistaken for siblings.

"They're not humans... Homunculi, huh."

"It would seem so. Your orders, Master."

"We'll split from here. Leave the homunculi to me. You take care of the rest."

"As you command!"

Crushing the tiles beneath his feet, the Saber of Black charged at the golems like a speeding bullet. The golems' stone and bronze bodies were shattered as though they were paper and wood. Another golem attempted to crush him with its immensely large body, but Siegfried simply launched his sunken body upwards, blowing the stone puppet aside.

He then leapt into the air and swung his greatsword with both hands at a golem coming from above, cleaving it clean in half. Landing back on the ground, the knight took his right hand off his sword to stop the punch of a second golem and threw his attacker away single handed - sending it on a collision course with the cleaved golem above and causing both to be shattered. Pulling his sword back up, Siegfried resumed his onslaught.

Against the homunculi, Harry spreads his arms out wide to each sides, allowing two large, menacing serpentine figures to slither out from his sleeves. Even the emotionless homunculi, slowly edging their way towards him, paused reflexively at the sight of the fearsome creatures.

Although they obviously looked like snakes, they clearly were not creatures of the flesh. Instead, they looked far more jagged and feral to be called animals. Demonic beasts from a nightmare would have been a far better description.

"_~Put them to sleep. End them painlessly,~"_ the Wizard hissed.

As soon as the order was made by their master, in the blink of an eye the twin "snakes" extend towards the frozen homunculi and bit the two nearby on their necks, killing them instantly.

The twin serpentine figures are sentient Mystic Codes created by Harry, himself, during his time as an Auror in his original world. Naming them "Ouroboros", he sealed them onto his shoulders in a form of tattoos and can summon them at any time.

The technique that he has just used was simple: By using the Basilisk venom that flows through his veins since twelve, Harry is able to draw out the diluted venom from his blood through Ouroboros, and have them use the extraction as their "venom". Although the Basilisk venom is significantly weakened due to the mixture of Phoenix tears, they are still enough to stun and paralyze one's ability to use magic – in this case, Magic Circuits.

Homunculi are especially vulnerable since they are literally Magic Circuits with a human form. Their frail bodies did not help at all. By slightly upping the usual dosage of the extracted venom, Harry could put these artificial beings into a painless state of sleep, eventually killing them.

Harry never enjoyed killing anyone unnecessarily, and these homunculi are most likely just mindlessly following orders from their Master. However, he knew all too well that there are fates much worse than death – which was exactly what these beings will face if he were to spare them. Sometimes, what is thought to be an act of mercy is instead cruelty.

That didn't make him feel any less guilty, though.

As soon as the two homunculi were taken down, the Ouroboros curves through the air and killed the rest of the homunculi in a similar fashion. Sealing his weapons back onto his shoulders, Harry noted that they died with peaceful expressions, as though they were just in a deep sleep.

He sighed. Five thousand years, and even the thought of taking away lives never made meals taste quite right afterward for him…

While the homunculi certainly possess some combat ability, to the Master of Death, they are but simple prey. And that seems to be the case for his Saber as well.

"It's over, Master."

"Yeah, well done."

Having crushed the last golem, Siegfried returned. He looked around at the corpses around him and let out a breath, sounding relieved from their sleep-like expressions as well.

Bending down, Harry tore out a piece of parchment from a piece of a shattered golem. There were commands written all over it.

"This is old... over eight hundred years old."

Time was of exceedingly high value in Thaumaturgical applications. A mystery strengthens the longer it has existed. With eight-hundred-year-old parchment, one may forge a golem that can easily destroy one or two experienced Magi.

However...

"How were those golems, Saber?"

"This was my first time facing these stone puppets... but they did better than I expected. The last one managed to endure three blows."

"A golem made by a modern Magus couldn't possibly last even two hits from you, not even if they spent their entire life working on it."

There are exceptions, of course. The world is a big place and it is possible that a Magus exists who can create golems on par with Servants. However, it does not seem likely that one would exist among the Yggdmillennia. The best Golemancer within their clan is Roche Frain Yggdramillennia and as good as his golems are, they shouldn't be able to withstand even one of Saber's swings.

This means that the creator of these golems is not a modern Magus. Most likely the Caster of Black who was famed for creating golems.

Just as Harry was taking a closer look at the parchment in order to examine it in further detail, a great heat washed over his face.

"Ouch!"

He recoiled and let go of the blazing parchment. It was not only the piece that Harry picked up - all the parchments in the area around them were going up in flames. The remains of the golems quickly weathered and turned to dust.

"Are you all right?"

"Yeah, it just stung a bit. Careful bastards…"

Suddenly there was a sound of slow clapping echoing throughout their surroundings. Both Master and Servant looked up and went into their stance, prepared to fight.

Up ahead are two tall figures, both obviously men despite their rather slim figures. One is wearing a crisp, clean uniform of white and gold. His wavy blue hair tied in a low ponytail.

His companion, on the other hand, wore almost entirely black; his complexion almost impossibly pale, making him look rather gaunt. Despite this, the man practically oozes out an aura of dignity and authority – a person not to be underestimated.

It was Darnic Yggdmillennia and his Servant.

"As expected of the Serpent Witch and the Servant of the Saber class," the elder of the clan finally said after he finished his claps of approval. "Both of you were splendid and a sight to behold. Wouldn't you agree, Lord?"

The Servant besides him nods in agreement.

"Indeed. They would make excellent additions into my army. Let us welcome them, Darnic. It would be bad manners on our part to not introduce ourselves to our allies."

"Yes, of course."

Turning back to his attention at the Master and Servant pair, Darnic Yggdmillennia spreads his arms out wide as if to welcome old friends.

"Good evening! I am Darnic Prestone Yggdmillennia, and this is my Servant, Lancer. We of the Yggdmillennia, welcome you to Trifas. As the head of my clan, and thus the leader of the Black Faction, we invite you to our home, the Fortress of Millennia, as our allies for this Grail War!"

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading this chapter. Please be sure to leave a comment by hitting that lovely review button.**

**Thank you to all those who have left comments on my previous chapters. Your comments, either critiques or encouragements, really help me feel inspired and motivated to create a new chapter. This chapter is for you guys C:**

**Thank you all once again, and I hope to see you guys soon.**


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